Sam Has More Going On
by himrqwerty
Summary: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Sacrifice. Sam is really sick from the trials, and in helping him stay alive, Dean finds out a few disturbing facts about Sam, and himself. Some Destiel (and maybe Sabirel? Let me know) later on.
1. Chapter 1

This is an alternate ending for 8.23. If you haven't seen Sacrifice, don't read this. Spoilers.

I don't own any of these characters, and am using them without permission. 

"Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you." Dean says, a pleading expression on his face.

"How do I stop?" Sam almost whimpers, after a few silent moments. More blood drips from his hand, and his forearms still glow.

"Just let it go." Dean tells him, looking relieved.

"I can't. It's in me, Dean. You don't know what this feels like." Sam tells him, his face anguished.

As Dean pulls out a bandana to wrap around his palm, the small grin on Dean's face makes Sam almost glad he listened. 'I've put him through so much.' Sam thinks miserably. 'Maybe I should've, anyway. Probably make his life a helluva lot easier.'

Sam's thoughts are interrupted by Dean talking. "Hey, listen, we'll figure it out. Just like we always do. Come on." Dean reassures Sam, pulling him in for a hug. It's a bit awkward because his arms are on top of Sam's, and he's still a good three inches taller than Dean is, but it feels nice all the same. To know that Dean can still give hugs... "Come on. Let it go, okay? Let it go, brother."

As he says that, the glow starts to fade. "Hey, Dean." Sam catches his attention, pulling away from the chick-flick moment that neither of them will ever bring up again.

"See?" Dean asks proudly, gazing at Sam's arms. Sam almost smiles, and Dean starts to as well, when Sam sees his eyes catch on something that is shown only when the glow is gone completely. (This is where my part kicks in. It'll be a lot different now.) "What's that?" Dean starts, eyes lingering on the single pale line across his wrist. 'Fuck.' Sam tells himself.

A sudden pain, sharp, and almost excruciating, ripples through Sam's abdomen and spreads to his head, his arms, down to his hands where it starts to throb, feeling like his heart is in his hands and it's trying to rip its way out. Sam bites his cheek, trying not to worry Dean, but a low groan slips out. Sam rips his wrists out of Dean's tight grip, bringing them to his stomach. As the pain throbs again, Sam groans just a little louder.

"Sammy? Sammy!" Dean shouts. Sam falls over onto his ass, making the pain increase tenfold.

"Dean..." Sam moans. Dean's hands reach towards him, eyes tight. Sam know he hates this, hates when Sam is sick or in pain, and he hates it more when he can't help. Sam tries to reach a hand up to touch him, but they feel like lead. However, Dean knows him well enough to reach down and place a hand on his shoulder ever so carefully.

Even though it's just a little extra weight, it makes the pain worse even as Sam feels himself calming down. Sam blacks out almost instantly.

When Sam wakes up, he's not in the dingy little church. Sam doesn't know where he's at, and Dean's nowhere in sight. His head feels fuzzy, like he's been drugged, but Sam doesn't remember getting drugged. Or anything, really, after he listened to Dean. "Dean?" Sam calls. "Dean," Sam says again, wanting him near. The longer he doesn't show, the more Sam worries. Did he leave? Was he right in thinking that he should have just cured Crowley, even though he would've died, because Sam was just troubling Dean, and it was too much, so he left?

Sam starts to breathe shallower, making his way to hyperventilating. "Dean," Sam calls again, and again, and again.

Cas comes in upon hearing him, and the second he sees his eyes open, he spins around and runs, shouting for Dean.

Dean storms into the room, but seeing him does little to stop the tears that have begun to flow down Sam's cheeks. "Hey, hey, hey Sammy. Its ok, I'm here, calm down. Shh." Dean soothes him, one hand on his forehead, checking his temperature, the other on his shoulder, rubbing it.

Though this usually would have calmed him instantly, Sam's worked myself up so much thinking that he should have just died, that it instead makes his heart pick up more, his breathing quicken, and his hands start to shake.

"Dean!" Cas cries. "Dean, you have to calm him down, now!" He almost shouts.

"Shut up!" Dean shouts, turning to look at Cas for just a brief second. "Sammy, look at me. Look at me. There you go. It's ok, I'm here, I'm not ever leaving, and you just have to calm down so you don't leave me, ok buddy? You can't leave me, not again. It was a pretty close call back at the church, I almost lost you. I can't go through that again, Sammy. I just can't. Shh, just calm down, I'm here. I've got ya." Dean says. Seeing the tears in Dean's eyes calms Sam's breathing down, and he closes his eyes, just feeling Dean rub his shoulder. Sam feels like he's eight again, sick in bed while Dad is gone, just him and Dean. Sam feels the same fright he did when it was really bad, and Dean had to call Dad, not knowing what to do. His heartbeat slows, but the shaking stays. "Yeah, there you go Sammy. It's all ok, I'm here."

His eyes still closed and his hand clutched in Dean's jacket, Sam falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I still don't own these characters, and I'm still using them without permission. 

When Sam wakes up, Dean's jacket is pulled over him, and he has the sleeve tight in his fist. His eyes are fuzzy, and can't quite focus. Sam still isn't sure where he is, or Dean.. "Dean?" Sam calls.

The door opens, and his eyes snap to it, looking for the reassurance that Dean brings him, knowing his big brother will fix the pain, no matter how bad. Instead of Dean, Sam gets Cas.

Sighing disappointedly, Sam settles back into his pillows. "Sam? Dean is doing a little research, he'll be back in a few minutes." Sam cocks his head to the side and grunts in confusion. Research?

Cas elaborates, knowing that the look in Sam's eyes means confusion. He's getting better with people, picking up the Sam bits from Dean, but the 'normal people' bits from Sam. "After ending the trials, you got sick. I think I may know what it is, but Dean wants to do his own research." Sam grunts in understanding.

"What do you think it is?" Sam asks, slowly. His lungs burn and his throat is on fire. It hurts to breathe, let alone talk.

"Don't talk, Sam." Cas orders sharply, much like Dean. That's another thing Cas has learned, how to be a leader. Trying to play God without Sam and Dean's help was stupid. He had no idea how lead, or control the angels. Now, with Dean's help, he can make even Sam listen, although he suspects that Sam only listened because he sounded like Dean, the boy that Sam obviously wanted. "During the trials, Metatron informed you that you started resonating with the Word of God, with him, right? Well, that change in vibration was slower, more gradual, but when you stopped, it was an abrupt change, one that I believe has your internal organs out of sync, not working correctly, and I also believe, out of place. I have no idea how to fix this. I can't." Cas says miserably.

Sam squints his eyes, not understanding why Cas didn't just use his angel powers.

"The angels fell, Sam. All of them. Metatron, he stole-" Cas' voice cuts out for a second. "Metatron stole my grace, the thing that makes me an angel, and used it to complete to spell to throw all the angels out of heaven. There are thousands of us roaming the earth, no leader, no organization, but with full angel capacity and little understanding of humans. I am just a human. I can't organize them, or call to them to ask for help, and if I could, none of them would. They do not understand the attachment I have to the Winchester boys." Castiel says, his voice filled with loss, and pain. Sam looks away, allowing the fallen angel a moment to collect himself.

In that moment, Dean stomps in. "Hey, Sammy. You feeling ok? Did Cas fill you in?" Sam nods.

"Good," Dean says gruffly. "I have no idea what's going on in you, Sasquatch. I'm going to go with Cas, though. It sounds right, and maybe he's still got a little mojo banging around in that head of his. Part of me wants to take you to the hospital, just so we can get you oxygen. Hard to breathe, right?" Dean asks, looking at the too shallow rise and fall of Sam's chest.

"Mmhm," Sam agrees.

"Where do you hurt?" Dean inquires, his voice filled with concern for his baby brother.

Sam looks at Cas, almost asking something. "Ok, you can talk," Cas relents.

Sam sighs in relief, looking back at Dean. "My hands and arms the most, but my head and stomach are pretty bad too," Sam tells Dean, who's looking at Sam with even more pronounced worry wrinkles. It took Sam far too long to say just that, and he looked out of breath and exhausted from the effort it took.

Taking Sam's hands in his own, Dean noted that they were hot, like he had a fever, but it was just in his hands. The skin felt tight, like Sam's hands had grown over the last day. Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, confused. Wanting to see how far up it went, Dean flipped Sam's arms over to show the tenderer underside. At first, Sam resisted, but after a second, all fight left him and he let Dean do as he wished. Giving Sam a distrustful look, Dean examined his arms, first running his own calloused hands up and down them, feeling again the tightened skin that continued up to his elbow, where it returned to normal, and where the glowing had ended at the church. Removing his hands from Sammy's arm, Dean leaned over to inspect every frickin hair on the kid, only to find the shiny scar that Dean had seen at the church, along with several other scattering his lower arms. Dean bit his tongue, knowing he could ask later, but right now Sam was struggling to breathe, so he would let it go, for now. He sighs.

"Go back to sleep Sammy. I'm gonna make you some soup, I'll wake you when it's ready. Ok, buddy?" Dean tells Sam, turning to leave.

He stops when he hears Sam whimper. Sam _doesn't_ whimper. He just didn't. Turning on his heel, he stooped to look his precious little brother in the eye, noting the frightened and tear-filled look to them. "I'll be right back, Sammy. Within shouting distance. I promise." Sam shook his head as much and as violently as he could, not stopping until Dean sat down. "Ok. I won't leave." Dean promised, taking Sam's hot hands in his, and pulling his leather jacket up around his brother's shoulders. When he thought Sam was asleep, he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and brushed his unruly bangs away from his face. _'Kid needs a damned hair-cut.'_ Dean thought.

He waited another minute to turn around and look at Cas, his best friend.

"What were those?" Dean asked, gesturing to Sam.

"Uh... what were what?" Cas stalled, knowing he was awful at it, but not wanting to confirm what Dean thought.

"You know. What. Were. They." Dean ground out, wanting to punch a hole in a wall in frustration, from just everything, but he couldn't leave Sammy's side without freaking him out.

"I think you know, Dean. I suspect while you were in hell, a long while ago, Sam grew depressed and, knowing Sam, felt lost without you, not remembering how to handle emotional pain. He knows very well how to handle the physical, so he began to hunt more recklessly, as you saw when you came back, but it wasn't enough. Stress does awful things to people Dean, and when you were dead, it was all Sam's fault. You know that better than anyone." Cas somehow managed to escape saying what had actually happened, not wanting to say it, make it more real.

Dean was angry. Furious. "Why didn't you stop him?!" Dean shouts.

"Dean, don't wake Sam." Cas says quickly, before Dean got any louder. "I didn't know him, Dean. I didn't know you. I was just an angel, a soldier. Thousands and thousands of humans do, and I didn't see the import of just one more. Besides, don't you think me coming down, telling him _'I'm an angel of the Lord who is trying to pull your eternally damned brother out of perdition because the apocalypse is coming again, and Dean is the archangel Michael's true vessel and you are Satan's. But I am currently failing to find a way to save him even with the powers of heaven on my side'_ would have freaked him out a bit, and maybe made him just a bit more stressed?" Again, Cas dances around the subject that _'He just didn't care'_ attempting to make Dean see reason.

"It doesn't matter. You could have called Bobby." Dean says stubbornly.

"Sam didn't want to be found, you know that. The only one that could find him was you, even if Bobby knew, he couldn't have found Sam. Besides, he stopped when you came back, didn't he? Isn't that the important part?" Cas pleads, trying to make Dean not hate him. Dean was Cas' weak spot, everyone knew it. If Dean hated Cas, he wouldn't function, and Dean knew it, too.

Dean sighed. "I know, Cas. I know. I just-" Dean cuts himself off, pressing his lips together, trying to suppress tears. His eyes rimmed with red, Dean turns his attentions back to his little brother, lying on the small couch, looking like the snot nosed little kid he used to be, not the over grown man he is now. Dean's heart shatters. "Could you go make some soup? Tomato rice, please. It's in the pantry to the right of the stove." Dean asked Cas, dismissing him so the angel wouldn't watch him cry. Cas nods, and before he leaves, lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, just for a moment. However, Dean surprises him and leans into the contact, just a little bit, just enough that anyone who didn't know Dean like he did wouldn't notice. Cas thinks he wasn't supposed to notice, either, so he doesn't comment, just goes to make Sam some soup.

Dean rests his head on Sam's leg, trying to get comfortable and not disturb Sam, and after a little shifting, manages it ok.


	3. Chapter 3

After some low grumbling that is slowly getting louder, Sam's grip on Dean tightens until Dean's eyes start to water, and Sam starts to ask for him "Dean? Dean?!" Sam shouts, still sleeping. Dean shoots up, not letting go of his brothers hands, not that he could even if he wanted to, Sam still had a death grip on him, and started soothing him. Easing a hand out of Sam's grip, Dean stroked Sam's forehead, checking to make sure he wasn't too hot, before moving down to his shoulder, drawing little circles on it with his thumb, still cooing to Sam like he was just a little baby again. In any other circumstance, Dean would have noted all this in the back of his mind as wonderful teasing material, but he was far too worried about Sam to even think about it.

When Dean finally got his other hand out of Sam's, the younger Winchester whipped his hands out, almost like he was going to shove the elder, but instead took a handful of his shirt and held it so tight Dean was worried it would rip, either the shirt, or Sammy's skin, still stretched taut over his dinner-plate sized hands.

Neither happened, however, because Sam shortly woke up, sweat dripping into his eyes, one hand fisted in Dean's shirt and the other in Dean's jacket. He slowly released Dean, but not the jacket. "C'mon, Sammy, sit up, food's almost ready." Dean encouraged the kid, who still looked like death on a plate, something Dean got really sick of seeing.

At his first try to sit up on his own, Sam threw up into the bag Dean had placed nearby, just in case, and developed a massive migraine that squeezed his head like a boa constrictor then beat it with a baseball bat. Sam gripped his brother tightly. "Ugh... no." Sam said stubbornly.

"Not an option, Sammy. You gotta eat. How's about I help you up, ok? You can do it," Dean told him, placing the 'I'm older so you get to listen to me, I'm the best dad you're gonna get.' tone into it, and Sam nodded.

Dean slipped a hand underneath his brother, sliding it up until the base of his hand was on Sam's neck and his whole arm supporting his back. His other hand grabbed Sam's side lightly, wrapping an arm around his front, expertly sitting Sam up like he had done whenever Sam was too sick or hurt to do it himself, just like Sam knew how to do for Dean.

When Sam finally was sat upright, Dean stacked pillows behind and on either side of him, not taking the chance of him falling over. Cas brought a bowl of soup and a spoon over, and Dean started to scoop come broth onto a spoon and into Sam's mouth.

Dean is hopeful that Sam can eat the whole bowl, but after just a couple bites he already looks like he's gonna throw up.

"Done?" Dean asks Sammy gently, and gets a nod in response. "Go back to sleep, then," He orders his brother, already turning to Cas, ready to talk some more.

"Wait," Sam groans. "You got any," he stops to inhale, breathing deeply like it the four words were four pages. "Um, painkillers?" Dean's eyes widened when he realized, no, he didn't, and opens his mouth to say so, when he's interrupted.

"Don't worry, Sam. I swiped some earlier. Put them in your soup, so you'll be unconscious in about two and a half minutes." Although Cas lost his grace, most of his 'mojo' was still there. His ability to sense where an injury was, and how bad, or what a sickness was, and his precise judgment of time and distance still remained.

Dean throws Cas a grateful look, and turns to tell Sam something, but he is already out.

"Hey, Cas, how're we gonna fix him?" Dean asks. Dean still talks about Sam being sick like he's a car, because, well, it was easier. Dean knew how to handle cars. Cars didn't _feel_ anything, and it was just so much easier like that.

Cas looks at Sam worriedly, and then swings his gaze over to Dean, not changing the look at all. Cas sighs heavily. "To be honest, Dean, I have no idea. I still have some power, but not anything too supernatural. I would call it excellent judgment. I can tell Sam is in a lot of pain, more than most people could handle - which isn't surprising, it's the Winchester's, you have a high tolerance - and I know where it is, and a faint inkling of why, but I can't tell how to heal him. I never had to worry about it before, it was always just where and how bad. Hell, I don't even know how to use medicines. I just read the label on the bottle and put some extra in, for knockout." Since becoming human, and spending time with Dean, Cas is beginning to understand humanity more. He is beginning to _feel_, and not just in the way that he had when he first touched Dean down in hell. Then, it was sort of an awake feeling, like sleeping for three days and when you finally wake up, there's a moment of clarity when everything you see is crystal. The first touch is seared into the both of them, just hearing 'Dean' made Cas think of that moment, and Dean had the handprint. But feeling like this, it was different. It was how Castiel imagined being a child, not understanding what would hurt and what wouldn't, and what shouldn't hurt but did anyway.

Then, there was this odd sort of feeling. It was a mix of several feelings, and Cas had no idea how to deal with it, or diagnose it. It was a mix of pain, and aching loneliness, and something else that Cas was lost on. So he pulled a Winchester. He pushed it down, out of his heart, and ignored it.

Dean sighs. "Cas, what are we going to do?" Dean asks, his voice strained.

Cas just shakes his head.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sam wakes up, his head is less groggy and his eyes are clearer, but the pain in his hands and chest has multiplied exponentially, and he weakly calls for Dean, only to find him sleeping next to him.

He whimpers, his throat dry and his lungs on fire, feeling lost and hopeless.

Cas comes in, holding a glass of water. Sam turns his gaze from his hands to the water.

"Give me just a second Sam, I'll rouse Dean." Cas tells Sam, setting the drink down on a side table. "Hey, Dean. Get up."

Dean remains sleeping until Sam chokes out a dry "Dean!" with tears slipping down his face.

At the sound of his baby brothers distressed voice, Dean shoots up and immediately begins to calm Sammy down.

"Hey it's ok Sammy. I'm here. It's ok, Cas brought pain pills. Here, drink some water, take these pills, it'll make it all ok, I promise Sammy," Dean soothes, picking up a rhythm to comfort the sickly Sam.

"Dean makes it ok," Sam said drowsily after taking the pills, making his older brothers heart melt a little.

After Sam drifts off to sleep, Dean turns to Cas.

"Cas..." Dean says, his voice filled with pain. "I hate seeing him like this. Are you sure you don't have any Garrison buddies you could get a message to, have them help?"

Cas takes on a thoughtful look.

"Please, Cas. It's been almost a month, and he's not getting any better. I... I... I can't st..." Dean stammers, suppressing a sob. They'd been injured for long periods of time, but never this long, and not without signs of improvement. Sam has been sleeping almost nonstop since Cas showed up, eating and drinking when he woke up, constantly in pain.

"I'll try. Maybe Hester, he fell long before I met you, he would be unaware I helped the Leviathans. Unless an angel told him." Cas adds as an afterthought, and left the room to find his friend.

Dean lays his head down on Sam's arm, muttering softly about Cas. "I can't tell him Sammy. I can't tell you, either. You'd both hate me, but I honestly help it. Especially now, after Metatron - the bastard - took his grace, he's become more human and he's just so-" Dean's voice cuts out, a single tear running down his face.

Sam stirs, sensing his upset brother.

"I don't hate you. I... Gabe... Knew before you did, jerk." Sam says weakly before drifting back off into a drug-induced sleep.

Dean froze, his whole body tense. 'Don't hate you'

'Don't hate you'

Dean slowly smiles.

His brother still loves him. His baby brother understood and didn't care and still, through his pain and misery, comforted his big brother. Just like always.

His mind turns to the more cryptic part of Sam's message. "Gabe."

It was obvious who he was talking about, the archangel Gabriel who was killed by Lucifer saving them. But since when did Sam call the ex-trickster that tortured him "Gabe"?

Dean didn't know was if he and Gabriel had figured it out, or really what Sam meant at all. Dean was at a loss, but pushes it to the back of his mind for now. Sam accepted him, and for now that is what he would focus on.

Comforted by his little brother, Dean drifts off into a peaceful sleep for the first time since - well, since before Sam left for Stanford.

In the other room thinking, Cas freezes when he hears Dean's broken and tear filled confession. Slowly he thought it over, his mind always reaching the same conclusion. Dean loves him back.

Cas is well aware that he not only would not be able to reach Hester, but Hester would never help him. He had simply left the room to give the brothers some space, but also to think.

Being human was odd. When Cas was still an angel, he could brush off what he now realized were feelings as being around humans too often.

Now that he was human, however, the feelings were multiplied by hundreds.

Although Cas had no inkling as to what love felt like, he knew other feelings - emotions that his father had hidden from him and his family for reasons he had never understood until now.

Cas knew pain and anguish and betrayal, happiness and kindness and gratitude.

Cas didn't know love. Maybe he had been loved by his father, but he did not understand what that felt like. Didn't know how to love, either.

Cas had reached the conclusion he had been dreading while he gave Sam and Dean space.

He was in love with Dean.

He had nowhere else to file this feeling - the dread that filled his stomach like a pit whenever Dean casually mentions a girls name - not that there have been many girls since Hell.

Since he met me.

The realization hit Cas like a bus.

Not only had Dean made what sounded like a broken confession to loving him to Sam, but Dean had dropped his hooking-up habits when he met Cas.

Dean had loved him all along.

Cas' eyes got wide and slightly teary.

"Dean..." He sighed, a blissful smile slipping on his face for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

"What was that, Cas?" Dean calls from the other room. Cas freezes, eyes wide like kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Nothing Dean." Cas sighs, trying his hardest to hide what he was feeling the way Sam and Dean do and failing miserably.

"Cas." Dean says pointedly. "You are still a shit liar. What's up?"

Cas is twisting his hands into his hem, and he suddenly runs to the bathroom. "Nothing Dean!" Cas calls over his shoulder, desperate for some free space away from Dean.

"Cas!" Shouts Dean as the former angels desperate escape almost pushes him into the table.

Once safe in the bathroom, Cas slowly unbuttons his jeans to find a half-hard cock. Cas stares at it for a few moments, not sure what to do. He had been standing there, daydreaming about Dean's pretty mouth wrapped around - oh.

"Cas, buddy you ok?" Comes - ha - Dean's worried call. Cas doesn't respond, too busy wrapping his hands around his now full erection, hissing at the added sensation. "Cas?" Dean calls again, just as Cas first moves his hand, eliciting another strained hiss. "I'm coming in Cas!" Dean calls, heart in his throat.

"No - wait - Dean!" Cas calls out, Deans threat finally registering too late, Dean has already kicked down the door, and is now staring at Cas' raging boner.

"Oh Cas, man, why didn't you just say something?" Dean says, voice all breathy. He takes a hesitant step forward, eyes flicking between Cas' impressive downstairs and his face, and upon seeing no protests, takes another larger step forward. He drops down to his knees once he is close enough to Cas.

Dean cocks - ha - his head to the left a bit, and quickly darts his tongue out to touch Cas' bright red head. "Oh, fuck!" Dean hisses. He pokes his tongue out and this time strokes it down the whole length. "Man, you taste so good." He moans.

Cas is shaking, penis throbbing. "Dean!" He moans. "Dean, please." He groans.

"Man! I've hardly even touched you!" Dean exclaims, hand sneaking up to wrap around and start jacking him off, now developing his own straining boner.

"Sorry. You just look very attractive and I've been-" Cas cuts himself off abruptly. "Please!" He strains again.

"Fuck man, me too. Don't worry, I've got you." Dean moans, opening his jeans with his free and, still stroking Cas, and begins to match the pace on his own cock.

Almost instantaneously, they erupt, Cas' white stickiness all over Dean's face just in time for him to hear a loud and very distressed "DEAN!" Coming from the next room over.

Sam.

Dean jumps up, wiping his face, own boxers, and buttoning up his jeans all in one movement and runs out to Sam while calling over his shoulder to Cas, "Finish the pillow talk later, dude!"

Oh my god, I'm so so so so sorry! I know it's been forever, and in a minute I'll spout a bunch of excuses, but I know and I give you guys full permission to hate me.

Well, school started, and so did debate (which is three hours a week officially but I spend more time working on debate than I do sleeping. I'm not joking) and Youth in Government and Robotics and Jazz Band and Marching Band and I've just got a lot going on and I'm REALLY sorry!

I'm also sorry that this is really short and not really on theme. If you have any ideas for me to continue, please review and let me know, because as much as I wasn't going to, this story seems to be going into Destiel and maybe Sabriel because I'm running out of ideas.

I'll try to update more, but no promises!


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